


Stitches

by BladedFeather



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 11x03, Blankets, Coda, Episode: s11e03 The Bad Seed, Feels, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-23
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-27 16:51:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5056336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BladedFeather/pseuds/BladedFeather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even with the lingering smell of dust and disuse, the Bunker is still home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stitches

**Author's Note:**

> So I watched Bad Seed. I was overcome by feelings, and am forever Destiel trash. My M.O is always that everyone is happy and generally not being tortured etc. So while Wednesday's episode was basically gold, here's what could've made it _even better_.

When the blanket slides over his shoulders, the first thing Castiel thinks is, _soft_. Because it is an almost overwhelmingly nice contrast to the knives behind his eyes. Castiel's words of thanks die on his lips the moment he looks at Dean. Castiel has been painfully aware of the darkness that was steadily growing inside of the Hunter, the weight of too many decisions with consequences not quite fathomable weighing down on him. Castiel gets a moment to drink in the worry and concern that light up the ever somber green before it feels as though there are needles digging into his brain.

From somewhere far away, Castiel watches himself. What humans often peg as out of body experiences, are nothing compared to this, Castiel is sure. Castiel watches as his body stalks after the girl, watches as his hands clamp around her throat. A terrible flash of horror descends on him when he realizes that this is what being a vessel must be like. 

The guilt and shame is washed clean by a fresh wave of terror as Dean approaches him carefully, hands up like Castiel is just a wild animal who might spook. For an instant, his worried yet steady voice gives Castiel's merciless hands pause, and the girl thankfully escapes.

There is nowhere to hide as he watches himself turn on Dean. Nowhere to escape the blood his hands draw. Every hit is too many. Castiel feels mildly hysterical at an unbidden twist of terrible emotion, that shouldn't affect him as much as it does. The ceaseless battle between human and angel in himself never finding peace. 

Vaguely Castiel hears the words to a spell, and staggers suddenly as he regains control. Barely within his vision is Sam, holding a gun to Rowena. Castiel has time to make his body turn back to face Dean, mouth open and not entirely sure of the words he wants to speak, before Rowena completes the spell, and Castiel crumples. 

The images that flash stay behind his eyelids as if they were burned there. Castiel tries desperately to decipher them, an attempt to make the pain in his head stop, when he hears Dean.

There is fear in his voice, and Castiel can feel a calloused although gentle hand on his face. It is difficult to make his eyes open, the semi-darkness of the warehouse still much too bright. 

When he manages it, the sight in equal parts warms and sends a chill through him.

Dean is hovering over him, concern dripping from his expression, face swollen and bleeding sluggishly. If Castiel could manage to gather any strength at all, he would use the last shreds of his grace to heal Dean. 

The Hunter helps him sit up gently, the points of contact like cool water after a burn. 

Castiel does his best to nod at Dean's half-frantic questions, hopes that Dean understands that he's okay, just tired. 

It is only with Rowena's escape that Dean finally removes his hands, fingers slipping from where they had been tucked under Castiel's collar. Castiel can only watch him gracefully stand, selfishly and immediately missing the contact.

*

Even with the lingering smell of dust and disuse, the Bunker is still home. Castiel quietly mused over how very rarely Heaven felt like home, and how right it felt to sit among the Winchesters as they bickered. 

Sam leaves the library for his room, but not before giving Castiel a bone grinding hug and welcoming him home. The tension between the brothers is still there, as it always seems to be, but Castiel can tell that it is much less strained than in recent memory. It eases some of the tightness in his chest.

The library feels at once too small and too large with Sam's exit. Castiel tries to lessen the feeling by pulling his blanket tighter over his shoulders, but it only reminds him of how Dean had gently placed it back on him the minute they were settled. 

When Castiel manages to swallow down some of the guilt, he meets Dean's eyes for the first time since coming home. Dean stares back. For a minute they stay there, a moment seemingly suspended, even to Castiel and his vast understanding of time. 

Castiel opens his mouth, desperate to make amends, to right this horrible wrong. Dean's face closes off and he waves him into silence. 

The ache behind Castiel's sternum only gets worse with the easy forgiveness.

Dean speaks softly and quietly as he gets up and crosses the room to him. Castiel listens to him crucify himself, heap guilt onto shoulders that should never have to bear the weight that his have and still do. When Dean falls silent, crouching in front of him to straighten the tie around his throat, Castiel simply stops to marvel.

God's intent in the flaws of humans is suddenly, vividly clear.

Dean and Sam have withstood things unimaginable on any scale, and while they strayed, while they lost their way, their spirits remained intact. The primal good within their souls was never tainted, through possession and death and suffering. Humanity is fragile and flawed so that they can break, and they possess the ability to reform the pieces into something of their choosing; be it breathtaking and good, or horrendous and evil.

Choice.

Castiel stares at Dean as his forehead scrunches in concentration, as he bites one corner of his lip, entirely focused on the task of making Castiel presentable again. Dean, Castiel realizes, though feels like he has always known, is what made him able to choose. Dean grated against everything that was wrong with Heaven, and polished it from Castiel, allowing Castiel to gain Humanity's imperfections. 

Humanity.

Castiel carefully licks his lips, watches the golden light play with the shadows on Dean's face and just lets himself _feel_. Castiel is afraid. He is petrified, and he is in love. Castiel finally finds peace with himself about his humanity.

Dean looks up, mouth quirking up in a little smile. Castiel loves it. For maybe the last time, Castiel curls his broken wings over Dean's shoulders. Watches the Hunter shiver even though he can't see them. 

It is just a gentle brush of lips, careful and unsure. 

The world is still falling apart, the Darkness is free and the consequences unimaginable. Castiel, if only for a moment, forgets this as Dean's eyes go wide and startled, before he carefully presses his lips back to Castiel's.

The warmth of Dean's hand is solid and real in his hand, and his tentatively happy smile makes him look younger.

This time when they kiss, it is practically ruined by their grins. They try until they get it right. Castiel for once doesn't notice the brittle and fading feathers falling from his wings. 

He's home.


End file.
